


Blessed are the Courageous

by hrhrionastar



Series: Blessed Art Thou [2]
Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: Episode: s02e14 Bound, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-13 06:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hrhrionastar/pseuds/hrhrionastar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Mother Confessor gets an unexpected guest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blessed are the Courageous

**Author's Note:**

> warning: references to Confessor practices such as taking mates; ~daddy issues (basically whatever the warnings would've been for _Bound_ )

"Frederick Amnell, Mother Confessor," announced Jeremiah, commander of Aydindril's Home Guard.  
  
Kahlan paled until she was as white as her dress. Her fingers clutched desperately at the arms of her chair.  
  
Beside her, Dennee shrank into the shadows, quite forgetful of the fact that her father would hardly recognize her in her current hazel-eyed brunette guise.  
  
"Wh-what are you doing here?" asked Kahlan, desperately trying to regain her dignity.  
  
Frederick Amnell smiled. "Can't a father visit his daughter?"  
  


* * *

  
"I never thought I'd see him again," Kahlan said, pacing. "After he gave me Mother's jewels so I might be freed from Nicci's Maternity Spell, I just assumed—why would he _ever_ come to Aydindril? Much less to _visit_ me, of all things?"  
  
"He's your father," said Richard. He was seated in the window seat, watching Kahlan. His dark eyes followed her every move. He appeared to find his words a sufficient explanation for Frederick Amnell's presence.  
  
Dennee sat at the table. Her spine was so straight that she might have been posing for a portrait. One hand rested on the gentle swell of her belly. She glared at the wall.  
  
"Where is he? Oh, what are we to do with him?" wailed Kahlan, flinging herself at Richard's feet and burying her head in his lap. He stroked her hair soothingly.  
  
"I sent your Mord'Sith to take him to a guest room," offered Dennee.  
  
Privately she hoped that Mistress Cara and Frederick Amnell killed one another, but she was conscious of the wickedness of this wish, so she endeavored to suppress it.  
  
When Kahlan Amnell had first returned to Aydindril, bringing Seeker, Wizard, and Mord'Sith with her, she had objected to Dennee's habit of referring to Mistress Cara as _hers_.  
  
A year and a half later, however, she had ceased to disclaim ownership of the blond Mord'Sith, most likely because it was apparent to all that only Kahlan's friendship with Cara prevented Kahlan's sister from banning Cara from the city.  
  
Cara had no objection to having Kahlan as her mistress, she said, but she did object to the months and months it was taking her Lord Rahl to claim the throne of D'Hara.  
  
Richard refused to leave his wife, however, and the Mother Confessor had had no wish to travel so far while she was with child, even had the way from the Midlands to D'Hara been perfectly safe. Instead war was undoubtedly brewing with the mysterious Blood of the Fold. And now that their son was born, Richard and Kahlan were even more reluctant to leave the place that they saw as home to their growing family.  
  
Richard thought of all this as he caressed Kahlan's hair. He was trying to decide what, if anything, Frederick Amnell's sudden visit had to do with the Blood of the Fold.  
  
A knock upon the door of the sunny Council room interrupted his musings. Zedd entered, cradling his tiny great-grandson in his arms.  
  
A faint cry of generalized complaint reached Kahlan's ears. She rose at once, and took Michael from Zedd.  
  
She was nursing him, her hair fallen forward over his face and a lock of it clutched in his tiny fist, when the door opened again.  
  


* * *

  
Frederick Amnell had no clear idea of how to address his eldest daughter.  
  
He scanned the room and instantly dismissed the handsome young man who was undoubtedly her mate, and the pregnant dark-haired woman he assumed was some sort of attendant. He knew the Wizard from the last time he'd seen Kahlan, but he couldn't imagine conversing with the man. Magic of all kinds still terrified him.  
  
"Father!" Kahlan sat up straighter in the window seat, jostling the baby in her arms, and pulled her bodice up to (inadequately, her father could not help noticing with disapproval) cover her breasts. At her side, her mate gently rescued a lock of her hair from the baby's clutching fingers.  
  
"Is this my grandchild?" Frederick asked.  
  
He stepped forward, maneuvering his way around the large table and both the Wizard and the pregnant woman, who sat or stood as still as statues.  
  
Frederick caught a glimpse of very dark eyes in the baby's tiny face before Kahlan shrank backward. Her own eyes were huge in her white face, but at least they were still clear blue and not swirling black.  
  
Frederick took a deep breath. "It was a mistake to come here," he said.  
  
Kahlan said nothing. Her silence was a far deeper reproach for Frederick than anything she might have said could have been.  
  
Fifteen years she and her sister had been gone, until she came to demand Sonia's jewels, with the disapproving Wizard and the quietly thoughtful Mord'Sith at her side, and got him out of prison.  
  
Frederick had thought he'd made an impression on her with his story of what Sonia had done to him. But obviously not. Her mate looked at her with the same adoration in his youthful face that Frederick remembered and loathed.  
  
Confessors. The child in Kahlan's arms looked like an innocent, but how long before those deep brown eyes darkened still further, this time with power? How long before those clinging fingers closed around some innocent neck and took away the greatest gift in life—freedom?  
  
Frederick turned away in disgust.  
  


* * *

  
Richard felt Kahlan curl tighter against him, her whole body as far from Frederick Amnell as she could get. Michael was quiescent in her arms, perhaps sensing that his mother could not at this moment grant him her full attention.  
  
Frederick started to walk away. Without pausing to wonder how the man had escaped from Cara, Richard held out his hands for Michael.  
  
Kahlan met his eyes. Hers were wide, swimming with unshed tears.  
  
Richard had seen Kahlan battle D'Haran soldiers, Sisters of the Dark, gars, even a calthrop. She had conquered her initial horror at traveling with the Mord'Sith who'd killed her sister and had the courage to forgive Cara, accepting her as one of her closest friends. She was the bravest woman Richard had ever known.  
  
Dennee, currently sitting so still that she might have been made of stone, had returned from the Underworld and still her spirit remained unbroken. She had survived months in a D'Haran prison and killed her own son to prevent him from falling into the evil clutches of Darken Rahl. Yet her compassion never wavered, and her wisdom was an excellent match for Kahlan's.  
  
Richard knew and admired both Amnell sisters. So it was horrifying to see them transformed before his eyes from strong, confident women to terrified little girls.  
  
He tried to tell Kahlan without words that everything was going to be all right.  
  
That she could trust him.  
  
Always.  
  
Kahlan transferred Michael to Richard's arms. Only when he was safe in his father's grasp did she let herself begin to tremble.  
  
Richard got up. He encountered Zedd's warning gaze on his way to intercept Kahlan's father, but he ignored it on the basis that Zedd was always advising caution when a little daring was needed.  
  
"Frederick," said Richard.  
  
Kahlan's father whirled with his hand on the doorknob. He frowned.  
  
"This is Michael," said Richard, making the instinctive new-parent-look-at-my-perfect-baby smiley gesture. "Your grandson."  
  
Frederick leaned in. Michael stared complacently up at him, content to be admired.  
  
"Grand _son_?" asked Frederick. "Aren't boys supposed to be bad?"  
  
"Not this one," said Richard, firmly.  
  
Shota had originally given Richard and Kahlan a necklace meant to prevent them from conceiving a child because that child would be a male Confessor. The pendant had reminded Richard uncomfortably of a Rada'Han, but it had lacked that magical device's effectiveness.  
  
Typically, to Richard's way of thinking, now that Michael was born Shota had changed her tune. She claimed that there was a new prophecy about a male Confessor born to this generation who would save the Midlands from disaster.  
  
This led Kahlan to vacillate alarmingly between hope and terror for her tiny son.  
  
Richard cherished hopes that Zedd's research might yet bring them more information.  
  
It had occurred to him that Shota's new prophecy might not refer to Michael at all. There was Dennee's son who had died, and she was with child again now. The prophecy presumably did not refer to her adopted son Edmund, since he was not a Confessor, but any future children she, or Richard and Kahlan, might have could be affected.  
  
Richard had not mentioned these alternate possible interpretations to either his wife or her sister. He preferred to think that Michael would not be called upon to save the world until he was older, and ready, and had his parents by his side to protect him.  
  
"Michael?" asked Frederick. "What made your mistress choose that name?"  
  
"Kahlan didn't," Richard answered truthfully. "My brother was called Michael."  
  
"You are not confessed," said Frederick, obviously very taken-aback.  
  
"Of course not!" Kahlan said indignantly from behind Richard. "I would never confess the Seeker!"  
  
Richard grinned, relieved that Kahlan had recovered her voice.  
  
"Actually," explained Zedd, "it was the power of Richard and Kahlan's love which saved the world from the Keeper less than two years ago. Richard can never be confessed. He already loves Kahlan as fully as one person can love another."  
  
Richard glanced at Dennee. She did not take the opportunity to either explain her identity or deal the conversation a potentially mortal wound by pointing out that while Kahlan didn't need to confess a mate because of Richard, she herself had not been similarly blessed with someone unharmed by her powers.  
  
When Kahlan had left Aydindril after Zedd had reunited her two selves—both inferior and inaccurate copies of the uniquely marvelous _real_ Kahlan—she had sent for her sister to rule for a while in her stead. Her Mother Confessor half had briefly taken a mate, Prince Fyren, but when she was restored to herself so was he.  
  
His freedom had been short-lived. Lacking the sense to flee Aydindril while he still could, he had instead attempted to regain his power there as regent. Dennee had confessed him and taken him for her mate.  
  
Richard was sorry that Dennee seemed too overwhelmed to confront her father. However, he could not help but be thankful that all the details of her Confessor-ness remained concealed, at least for the moment. Instinct told him that Frederick would not react well to the story of Fyren.  
  
"I'm happy for you," said Frederick. He was awkward, but sincere. Kahlan came closer.  
  
Frederick pulled a small bottle from his pocket. It had a rather ornate-looking stopper, and was filled with dark liquid.  
  
"Someone told me to give you this," Frederick said, holding the bottle up to the light, "but I wouldn't drink it, if I were you."  
  
Kahlan eyed the bottle doubtfully. So did Richard.  
  
"Zedd?" the Seeker asked, trying not to sound worried.  
  
Michael began to fuss. Richard held him against his shoulder and patted his back soothingly.  
  
Zedd took the bottle from Frederick, opened it, and very cautiously raised it to his nose.  
  
"I'll have to run some tests to be certain," the Wizard said, "but there seems to be more than enough amla oil here to kill three Confessors."  
  
Everyone looked at Kahlan, and then Michael, and then Dennee, except Frederick, who still didn't seem to have recognized his second daughter.  
  
"Someone gave you amla oil for the Mother Confessor," said Dennee. Her voice was impressively calm. "Did this someone also mention anything about the death of all magic, the necessity for washing clean the honor of the people with blood, or the injustice of inherited power?"  
  
Frederick stared.  
  
"The Blood of the Fold," Richard explained briefly.  
  
He actually agreed with them about the injustice of inherited power, but knew better than to bring that up with his less equality-minded family and friends.  
  
Besides, Cara would just tell him that there was no escaping his destiny as Lord Rahl.  
  
Richard sighed.  
  
When he turned his head to check on Michael, he saw that his son was asleep. It was a mystery to Richard how the baby could sleep through this emotionally charged gathering, but he was thankful. He knew better than to put Michael down and have him start wailing. Instead Richard stepped slowly back toward the window, his son resting against his shoulder.  
  
Kahlan touched his arm, and they shared a look of deep understanding.  
  
Then she set her shoulders and moved forward. She took Frederick's unresisting hands in hers.  
  
"You should stay for a real visit," Kahlan said. "The Blood of the Fold are everywhere. It's not safe to travel alone."  
  
"Thank you," said Frederick. "I'd—I'd like that."  
  


* * *

  
That night, Kahlan sat staring into her open trinket box for some time, thinking.  
  
She was impatient with jewelry in general, and rarely wore any except for her wedding ring and the occasional pair of earrings, but Kahlan had managed to acquire a significant number of fine necklaces, often as wedding gifts. She still had Shota's contraceptive pendant, for example.  
  
At the moment she was looking at her mother's sapphires. Hers, now.  
  
One the whole Kahlan was glad that her father had come to Aydindril at the urging of an enemy who'd hoped to poison her. She would have been uncomfortable if she and Frederick Amnell were able to trust one another easily. It struck at her sense of the way the world was supposed to be.  
  
Yet she knew that this meant the Blood of the Fold had stepped up their attacks. Poisoning the Mother Confessor was a comparatively subtle way of demoralizing the Midlands, but surely more forthright methods, like an army, were forthcoming. Richard and Kahlan had been preparing for that for over a year.  
  
Kahlan sighed, and shut her trinket box. She was far too unsettled from her father's unexpected visit to gain much comfort from whatever echo of her mother might remain in the sapphire necklace.  
  
Richard entered. Kahlan would have felt his presence behind her even if she couldn't see him reflected in her mirror. She reached both arms over her head and he caught her hands, leaning over to press a kiss to the top of her head.  
  
"Michael's asleep," Richard reported. "Cara's guarding the nursery tonight. She says the future lord of D'Hara will be undisturbed if she has to kill everyone in the Confessors' Palace to ensure it."  
  
Kahlan smiled, thinking that the story of the poison meant for her, and presumably also for her son, had frightened her friend.  
  
Richard let her go, reluctantly, in order to sit on the bed and tug his boots off. "Why do you think Cara sent Frederick to our favorite Council room?" he asked. "I hope it wasn't to spite Dennee."  
  
"Oh, no," Kahlan replied, twisting around in her chair to face her husband. "Cara always wanted me to give Father another chance."  
  
She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and laughed when Richard slumped against the pillows and held out both his hands for her as if he thought he could summon her into his arms by magic.  
  
Richard had never needed magic to make Kahlan long to be in his embrace, however. It was the work of a moment to slip off her own shoes and join him on the bed.  
  
"I asked him to stay partly because of Dennee," Kahlan confided when she was snuggled securely against Richard's chest. "She was nine when we left for Thandor, and only three when Mother died. She doesn't remember when Father was still kind to us."  
  
The unexpected intensity of the day had begun to catch up with Kahlan. Her voice sounded far off to her, as if she were speaking from inside a deep well. Her eyelids started to droop.  
  
"I hope that she'll see it doesn't help to hide," Kahlan said sleepily. "I used to think it did, but it doesn't. You taught me that, Richard. Wherever you are, whatever you do, you are always yourself."  
  
"Who else would I be?" Richard asked, bemused.  
  
Kahlan murmured something unintelligible.  
  
Richard held her close, pressed against his heart. The uncertainty of what the Blood of the Fold's next attack might be, coupled with the fear that it would certainly have Kahlan as its target, made it hard for him to sleep in spite of his exhaustion.  
  
He knew how hard it had been for Kahlan to confront her father—both today and when she had needed him to help break the Maternity Spell. He was awed anew at the pure wonder and delight that was Kahlan Amnell.  
  
"My brave Kahlan," Richard whispered against his wife's hair. "I am so proud of you."


End file.
